


030 - Being Bob's BFF

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “I was wondering if you could write about the reader talking to Bob (as they’re close friends) about the reader liking Van, & maybe Van walks in on their conversation and hears her admit to Bob that she loves Van, & Van has feelings for her as well so its very fluffy at the end & maybe a year later or something they’re dancing in the kitchen to lemonworld?"





	030 - Being Bob's BFF

You sat on the kitchen bench and watched Bob work. You'd known him for as long as you could remember. His parents and yours were best friends, and that friendship had bloomed in the two of you as well. You'd been there for each other through all the muck and the shit life threw your way. Admittedly, life really seemed to have it in for you though. Whenever some bad news came through Bob would call and check on you, "I just kind of assume it involves you now." All the bad luck, broken hearts, hospital trips, and self-doubt had solidified in you. It had solidified into walls that kept the rest of the world at bay. You really only talked to Bob about things. You had other friends who you did love, but it wasn't the same.

In the kitchen Bob was making cherry chocolate protein bliss balls. When he said that combination of words you laughed out loud. A few years back he went on a health kick and it totally stuck. The boy was always beautiful, but he kind of level up'ed. The healthiness rubbed off on you, and you spent a great deal of time sitting on that bench watching him make various raw, sugar free, or whatever, recipes.

"You seemed to have… real? Real fun at the party the other night," Bob said.

The party was held in an abandoned carpark that was covered in bright street art. Someone had rolled empty metal oil drums in and created small bonfires around. A makeshift stage housed bands all night, and a guy named Jarrod was giving out free joints. Of course you had real fun. You knew that's not what he meant though. You were happy to avoid the topic.

"Yeah," is all you replied with.

"Saw you talking to Van a lot,"

"Yeah,"

"Yeah? Didn't you go with him to Casbah too?" Bob's tone wasn’t accusatory. It was interested, with a hint of amused. His mouth curled up at the side like it did whenever he found something funny but didn't want to directly acknowledge it. You could feel a direct acknowledgement coming, though.

"No. Yes. No. I was on my way there and we bumped into each other. An accident,"

“Did you accidentally go for coffee together after too?"

"How do you know about that?" It's not like you purposefully didn't tell Bob about coffee with Van. It was something that you didn't want to believe was important. 

"Multiple sources," Bob said. A full smile. "Y/N. First of all, Van tells everyone everything. Second of all, he has millions of people tracking his whereabouts at all time. There's photos of you online. People are trying to work out if you're a friend, girlfriend, sister, whatever. People are interested."

"It's none of their business," you snapped.

"It's mine though," Bob said, stopping what he was doing to look at you seriously. You shook your head. "Yeah, it is. You're my best friend. He is too. I want to know what's going on,"

"When did you get so nosey? This isn't very you,"

"You having a crush on someone… someone like Van isn't very you,"

"I don't have a crush,"

"What is it then?" he asked. Did you not know what 'it' was, or were you painfully aware of the reality of the situation and trying your Goddamn hardest to ignore it? Besides Bob, nothing ever worked out for you. Nobody ever worked out. Especially not someone as good as Van, with his stupid fluffy hair and his stupid eyelashes and his manners and pointy collarbones and kindness and cracked out laugh. The world was not about to drop Van McCann in your lap. You looked at Bob and he could read you like a fucking book. You shrugged. "You really, really like him, huh?"

"I… Yeah. I just feel normal and okay around him. That's not, like, a thing for me. You know? The other day he said that the freckles on my hands were like those pictures of space with all the pretty stars. He didn't even say it to try anything, Bob, it was just an observation. I…" you couldn't finish the sentence.

"You love him?"

You felt your body scream. You felt blood rush to your legs to make running easier. You felt your pupils expand to take in more light so scanning for potential threats was more effective. Your digestive system paused to let more energy be released to the rest of your bodies. You heart started to race and your lungs worked more quickly. It was fight or flight. Panic. Bob's eyebrows folded inwards in concern. You sucked in your bottom lip and bit down hard. Then, the smallest movement. A tiny little nod of the head that admitted what you'd never, ever thought you'd admit. You let it happen and you started to wait for the natural consequence of nothing good.

…

You were sitting on the bench in the park overlooking the water. You were fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes. Quitting was pretty much as hard as you'd expected, but Bob was adamant it had to happen. You pulled your jacket around you and watched a duck pick up a piece of old bread and carry it off happily.

"Wouldn't let Bob see you with those."

Van sat down next to you, too close for it to be considered normal or friendly.

"I know. I've not had one," you told him. He put his hand out and you put the packet in his palm. He looked at the box for a second, then at you. He maintained eye contact while he threw the box into the water. You stood up as soon as he did it. You looked back at him. He wasn't even smiling like it was funny. He just shrugged. You couldn't process it so you sat back down. "What are you doing here?" you asked.

"Looking for you,"

"Why? How'd you find me?" you asked. You shouldn’t have asked two questions at once, because it meant he could avoid answering one.

"Bob said you come here sometimes."

You nodded and you sat quietly for a while. The wind picked up and out of the corner of your eye you watched Van's hair flip around. You stood up when the park got eerily quiet, everyone leaving in case it began to rain.

"We should go. Do you want to get a coffee or something?" you asked.

"I heard you in the kitchen the other day," he replied immediately. You felt the blood drain from your body. All of it. Every drop. It was okay though; it's not like you needed it anymore. You were about to die. Maybe he meant a different time. He could mean any kitchen on any day with any person. "I came to give Bob back the camera Mum borrowed. Door wasn't locked, but I should have knocked. And I heard you," he explained.

"Where did you go? We didn’t see you," you asked. Right. Focussing on the logistics would make this conversation not get to the inevitable end point.

"I put the camera in the lounge and left. Y/N, I-"

"I've got to go. I just remembered I have to-" you took a step backwards. Van stood and followed you.

"You don't have to do anything. Stop," he said and you did.

He took your hand and you tried to avoid looking at him, but the weight of his stare was too much. You looked up.

…

Bob bit into one of the cherry chocolate protein bliss balls you had made. His face scrunched up.

"You didn't put any honey in these, did you?" he asked. Your face dropped. No. No you had not.

"Look, I watched you make these a year ago, Bob! How am I meant to remember that?"

"Google the recipe? Start again," he instructed and left the kitchen. As he walked out, Van walked in. He made a happy little gasp and turned up the radio.

"Y/N, dance with me," he said. You looked over your shoulder and frowned.

"Can't. Fucked up the bliss balls. Have to start again," you told him. He stood behind you pressed close, and wrapped his arms around your waist. His head rested on your shoulder.

"But Lemonworld," he whined. You smiled, turned around, and looked at him. He waited for something. You rolled your eyes and took his hands. "Gooooood," he said and you danced. "I love you.” Such a small sentence. So full and complete. Still as unbelievable then as it was when he first said it to you in the park a year ago.

"I love you too.”


End file.
